
    »Suspicion, Master? - ay, truly - and I can show you the proofs of it; if I
happen only to have them with me. - Here, Lockhard« - His attendant came -
»Fetch me the little private mail with the padlocks, that I recommended to your
particular charge - d'ye hear?«
    »Yes, my lord.« Lockhard vanished; and the Keeper continued, as if half
speaking to himself.
    »I think the papers are with me - I think so, for as I was to be in this
country, it was natural for me to bring them with me. I have them, however, at
Ravenswood Castle, that I am sure of - so perhaps you might condescend« --
    Here Lockhard entered, and put the leathern scrutoire, or mail-box, into his
hands. The Keeper produced one or two papers, respecting the information laid
before the Privy Council concerning the riot, as it was termed, at the funeral
of Allan Lord Ravenswood, and the active share he had himself taken in quashing
the proceedings against the Master. These documents had been selected with care,
so as to irritate the natural curiosity of Ravenswood upon such a subject
without gratifying it, yet to show that Sir William Ashton had acted upon that
trying occasion the part of an advocate and peace-maker betwixt him and the
jealous authorities of the day. Having furnished his host with such subjects for
examination, the Lord Keeper went to the breakfast table, and entered into light
conversation, addressed partly to old Caleb, whose resentment against the
usurper of the Castle of Ravenswood began to be softened by his familiarity, and
partly to his daughter.
    After perusing these papers, the Master of Ravenswood remained for a minute
or two with his hand pressed against his brow, in deep and profound meditation.
He then again ran his eye hastily over the papers, as if desirous of discovering
in them some deep purpose, or some mark of fabrication, which had escaped him at
first perusal. Apparently the second reading confirmed the opinion which had
pressed upon him at the first, for he started from the stone bench on which he
was sitting, and, going to the Lord Keeper, took his hand, and, strongly
pressing it, asked his pardon repeatedly for the injustice he had done him, when
it appeared he was experiencing, at his hands, the benefit of protection to his
person, and vindication to his character.
    The statesman received these acknowledgments at first with well-feigned
surprise, and then with an affectation of frank cordiality. The tears began
already
